


Hollow

by notyourkindofpeople



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Anger, F/M, First time memories, Hate, Pain, Self-Mutilation, fuck that jigsaw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:10:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3700424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyourkindofpeople/pseuds/notyourkindofpeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snake recreate's the Boss's scar during his descent into Madness. Reflections, memories and insanity. (plus a wee bit of Naked Snake/The Boss if you squint)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hollow

Hollow

Metal shone in the yellow light, gleaming with sterility and comfort. Turning the scalpel like a worry stone, he contemplated what led up to the consideration of self mutilation. The jigsaw wasn’t enough, it wasn’t permanent. It wasn’t real, so naturally it didn’t exist in the manner that he wanted it too. There was a void where the scar should have been, a never ending seam of unadulterated flesh that made him tense and contempt, eating at his nerves.  
Locked doors were Snake’s only privacy, his only respite, and behind them, his madness ran rampant and free, invading his thoughts with an intense fervor that overwhelmed him. Every event and influence had led him down this path, sitting on the bathroom floor half naked with a scalpel and a lingering memory. Lilies turned crimson, energy flowed languidly, and the scar disappeared, everything felt numb and surreal as she laid among the flowers eternally.  
Everything came back to that scar, the one he saw so many times, the one she never explained until the end. It was all so fitting and significant. It was everything that tore him apart. Shaking his left hand trailed the mother of pearl handle.  
‘decorating you body with her memory, how effeminate’ The words echoed in his head with the memory of Strangelove attempting to touch the bare, naked flesh that concealed the jigsaw. Snake expected it to scar, and was disappointed, enraged when it didn’t.  
His train of thought was broken, chaotic, flipping back and forth between memories and the contemplation of self mutilation for the sake of self preservation.  
Then he remembered the first time he saw her scar, the first time he had her. A few months after Korea they found themselves stationed in Washington near the shore. Clouds were heavy and gray, the heavens opening up, pouring, crashing into the agitated ocean. She flipped him to the ground on his back and straddled him. Uniforms darkened with the heavy warm rain, adding considerable weight to both of them. Buttons were torn from his jacket as she ripped it open without hesitation, exposing his bare chest. Engulfed in naïve confusion he reached up and did the same, and there it was. Snake had seen the top of the scar numerous times, but had no idea of it’s entirety. She pinned his hands, leaning closer while he gazed, mesmerized, entranced by the intensity of what was splayed before him.  
“Jack,” she muttered, gaining his attention once more, clear blue eyes were laden with a mix of emotion. Rain streamed down her face, her wet hair clinging to her cheeks and neck. “Kiss me,” she ordered.  
Jack knew he wasn’t worthy to touch her lips, instead he embraced her scar with his, eliciting a surprised pleased sigh as he caressed her in the way Sorrow once had. The rain masked her joyful tears, hiding the intensity of the emotions she rarely showed.  
Tears welled at his recollection. Setting his jaw firmly his cold blue eye stating at the object of his impending destruction.  
No more waiting or debating, with a determined yell he pressed the blade into his pectoral, slicing into the soft, malleable flesh. Scratching his sternum he created a dripping crimson trail in his wake that curved downwards. Snake felt numb, distanced from his pain as he grossly added to the mutilation of his body, abusing what had betrayed him so many times. Pressing harder, the blade dug into his abdominal muscles, dully reminding him of his existence. Tossing away the scalpel, he listened to it chime against the concrete before he brought his hands to his chest, dabbing at the blood that poured out of him like the rain from the heavens that day she took him and a piece of his innocence.  
He felt nothing as he stared at the visceral crimson on his hands. Empty. Hollow. The void in his soul still ached. Vision tunneling, he pitched forward, shoulders slamming into the ground, hands still clutching the memory of her. Rolling to his back the sterile bright light burned his retina, forcing him to his side as everything darkened. He was back with her, under the tree lying naked in each other’s arms, his hands trailing over her scar. His head rested on the swell of her chest, her hand tangled in his wet brown hair, slicked with rain and sweat.  
“Don’t ever change Jack, don’t ever lose yourself,” she implored. Looking up he met her gaze curiously and she pressed her lips to his and there was nothing but bliss.  
The lock was picked and the door swung open and Snake heard Ocelot call for a medic before he was engulfed in darkness. Flipping him to his back, Ocelot removed his shirt and tried to staunch the blood flow. He knew what was going on, seeing the scar that emulated his birth on the man he loved nearly brought him to tears. Her never had the chance to know his mother while she was alive, and Snake remained his only link to her life, to her wisdom and it only punished him, tormenting Ocelot internally, making him ache for the same kind of love that they had.  
“I miss her too,” he choked out moments before the medics rushed in and lifted Snake onto a gurney.  
Blood soaked into the concrete, a permanent stain and reminder of Snake’s increasing madness. It didn’t matter how much he tried to go back, or how much he wished he had listened to her plea. He was still mad. He was still hollow.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. Any words of constructive criticism?


End file.
